


nowhere, now here

by soulofme



Category: GOT7
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Idols, Angst, Former Idol Jaebum, M/M, older jaebum, trainee mark, younger mark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-29
Updated: 2019-05-29
Packaged: 2020-03-26 09:00:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19002589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soulofme/pseuds/soulofme
Summary: It’s a bit ironic, Jaebum thinks, that Jinyoung’s sticking the freshmeat with a washed-up idol. It’s like hewantsthe kid to fail.





	nowhere, now here

i.

It’s a bit ironic, Jaebum thinks, that Jinyoung’s sticking the freshmeat with a washed-up idol. It’s like he _wants_ the kid to fail. He tells him so, and Jinyoung frowns and flicks his forehead.

“Don’t mess this up,” he says, business as usual. “This could be what you need.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“It _means_ ,” Jinyoung says, a certain edge to his voice, “that you could benefit from this. Get back in the public’s good graces.”

Jaebum wrinkles his nose.

“Why would I want to do that?”

Jinyoung crosses his arms and looks at Jaebum like he’s an idiot.

“Look around you. You’re not exactly living in the lap of luxury right now.”

Jaebum pulls a face, and Jinyoung looks so smug about it that he has no choice but to roll his eyes and shove himself further under his blankets. He has no idea where Jinyoung managed to get a key to his measly apartment, but it’s not like it really matters. Even if he didn’t have a key, Jinyoung would probably force himself in. He’s annoying like that.

That’s why four hours later, there’s a lanky blond kid in his kitchen. He doesn’t look Korean, and he probably isn’t, considering how his pronunciation is bad enough to make Jaebum want to hurl himself out of the window. He lives on the sixth floor. It’d be quite a drop.

“Why are you here?” he asks.

The kid shifts awkwardly. He’s wearing a black shirt that’s too big for him, and sweatpants that make his legs look like sticks. Jaebum thinks he could easily snap him in half, and the thought makes his lips curl into a frown before he can stop himself.

“Jinyoung-hyung said you could help me.”

Jaebum squints at him. “How old are you?”

“Eighteen.”

“Eighteen,” Jaebum says, just to be an ass, enjoying how he stiffens up like he’s offended or some shit. “You’re a kid.”

“I’m not a kid.”

“Okay,” Jaebum says, sipping at his lukewarm coffee. “Do you have a name?”

“Mark.”

“Well, _Mark_ , where are you from?”

Mark hesitates, shifting his weight from foot to foot. “Los Angeles. California.”

“America? You’re a long way from home, huh?”

“I wanted to come here.”

“Yeah?” Jaebum says, downing the rest of his coffee. “That’s how it usually starts. What brought you here? Money?”

“No,” Mark says. And then, quieter, “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know,” Jaebum says, unimpressed, and Mark at least looks a _little_ ashamed. “This industry’s gonna chew you up and spit you right out.”

Mark swallows hard, hard enough that Jaebum watches his Adam’s apple bob, but he doesn’t defend himself. Jaebum drums his fingers on the countertop, running a critical eye over the kid.

“You dance?”

“Not really.” Jaebum had expected that.

“Then what do you do?”

“Rap.”

“Are you any good?”

Mark rocks up onto the tips of his toes, hands clasped in front of him.

“The talent agent thought so.”

“It’s their job to recruit,” Jaebum says dismissively. “Doesn’t mean you’re good.”

Mark clenches his jaw. “I’m a trainee.”

“Yeah, and there’s a good chance that’s the farthest you’re gonna get.”

He likes the way the kid looks like he’s going to fight, less like the meek little kid who’d been standing in kitchen minutes ago. Jaebum leans over the counter, watching as Mark’s gaze drops to his feet, the fire leaving him as quickly as it had come on.

Interesting, he thinks.

“Jinyoung-hyung said you used to have sold-out concerts.”

“Used to,” Jaebum repeats sharply. “What do you think happened, hm?”

Mark’s face flushes with shame, and Jaebum decides he might as well take pity on him.

“Forget it. It doesn’t matter now.”

Mark cracks a shy smile at that. “Sorry, hyung.”

Jaebum freezes, a strange feeling washing over him. He’s not sure why it feels like his heart has stopped or something insane like that.

“I don’t care about that shit,” he finally manages to grit out. “Just Jaebum is fine.”

Mark’s smile turns coy. Jaebum shakes his head and deposits his empty cup into the sink, busying himself with the towering pile of dishes so he doesn’t have to look at Mark for another goddamn second.

“What happened?”

“With what?” Jaebum mutters, but he knows exactly what the kid’s getting at. “Everything’s got an expiration date.”

“But you were good.”

“It wasn’t enough,” Jaebum growls, scrubbing a plate with more force than is probably necessary. “I didn’t want to do everything they told me to, so my career went to shit.”

It’s true, mostly. The thing is, Jaebum got into this when he was young. Maybe too young. He had a decade of success, give or take, but he was bound to break. Too many rules, too many expectations. He mother always said he was a free spirit. Of _course_ he didn’t take well to being controlled.

“I listened to you a lot in high school.”

It makes him feel old, for a moment, but Jaebum lets him continue.

“Oh, yeah?”

“Your music was different,” Mark says, and his voice gets all soft, like he’s embarrassed of what he’s saying. “ _You_ were different.”

“Can’t have that,” Jaebum says bitterly, sliding a plate onto the drying rack. He shuts the tap off and turns, crossing his arms over his chest. “People don’t like different.”

“I do,” Mark says, hushed, and heat travels down the length of Jaebum’s spine.

 

 

 

 

ii.

“I’ll have an iced americano, thanks. Nothing for my friend here.”

Jinyoung digs his wallet out of his pocket, handing over a sleek black credit card before turning towards Jaebum. Jaebum can’t resist rolling his eyes, causing Jinyoung to raise an eyebrow.

“Stop being a dick, Jinyoung.”

“You said you were going to cut back on the caffeine, hyung,” Jinyoung murmurs absently. The barista hands over his drink and he gives her a show-stopping smile that has Jaebum miming gagging.

Jinyoung leads them over to a table off to the side, by one of the floor-to-ceiling windows. Jaebum settles himself into a chair grumpily, glaring at the people walking by the café like they don’t have a care in the world.

“Hyung, huh?” Jaebum says, reluctantly turning his gaze to Jinyoung. “You only call me that when you want something.”

Jinyoung takes a sip of his coffee, his eyes curving upwards. “How’s Mark?”

“Who?” Jaebum asks, feigning disinterest. Jinyoung releases a heavy sigh.

“The trainee I sent you.” Jinyoung’s tone makes it abundantly clear he’s not impressed with Jaebum’s little game.

“He’s not gonna last,” Jaebum says. “He’s too—”

“What, American? That doesn’t matter. He’ll be a hit with the international fans.”

“He’s not confident,” Jaebum corrects, and Jinyoung actually looks interested. “He says he can rap.”

“He can. I was there for his audition.”

“That doesn’t mean anything,” Jaebum insists. “He lacks passion, drive. He doesn’t want this shit.”

Jinyoung taps his fingers delicately on the table.

“You think so?”

“He’s a fucking kid, Jinyoung,” Jaebum says, waving his hands in frustration. “Someone is forcing him into this shit. Maybe his parents want to use him as a cash cow.”

“I don’t think that’s it,” Jinyoung disagrees with a frown. It seems to be a common expression on his face when dealing with Jaebum. “You were a kid when you started out, weren’t you?”

“That’s different.”

“No, it’s only different because you decided to mess it all up.”

Jaebum clenches his jaw.

“I told you I was sick of it.”

“So you sabotaged your own career?” Jinyoung asks, resting his chin on his palm. “That doesn’t seem very smart, hyung.”

“Stop calling me that,” Jaebum snaps, crossing his arms. “You don’t fucking respect me.”

“Stop whining,” Jinyoung says, dramatically rolling his eyes. “Unlike you, I have an image to maintain.”

“You gonna be his manager?”

“Mark’s?” Jinyoung looks thoughtful. “If he makes it, sure.”

“You don’t even know if he’s good enough,” Jaebum says accusatorily.

Jinyoung leans back in his seat. His face is carefully blank, but Jaebum knows exactly what’s going on in that head of his. He’s calculating, always fucking _calculating_ , and Jaebum just knows this isn’t going to end well for him.

“Let’s make a deal, hyung.”

“Fuck no.”

“Hear me out,” Jinyoung says, holding a hand up. He’s not smirking, but Jaebum can see the mischief sparkling in his eyes. “You take him under your wing, show him the ropes. If you make something out of him, I’ll get off your back. Lengthen the leash, if you will.”

“You won’t be able to do that,” Jaebum sneers, but the idea of Jinyoung not constantly barging into his apartment _is_ rather appealing. “What if he fails?”

Jinyoung shrugs. “Nothing.”

Jaebum feels his eye twitch. “Then what the hell is the point of this?”

“Like I said before,” Jinyoung says, swirling his coffee cup around. “The public will eat it up. Everyone loves a reformed bad boy.”

“Fuck you, Jinyoung.”

Jinyoung’s smile is predatory.

“Good luck, hyung.”

Jaebum doesn’t exactly storm out of the café, but it’s dramatic enough that a woman jumps when the door slams shut.

 

 

 

 

iii.

“You’re back,” Jaebum drawls. “I was afraid I scared you off.”

“Jinyoung-hyung dropped me off,” Mark replies, wrapping an arm around himself. “He said you would help me.”

“Did he? And what did _you_ say?”

Mark looks taken aback for a moment. “I said I was grateful for the opportunity.”

Jaebum’s lip twitches upwards.

“You aren’t worried?”

“No,” Mark says honestly, eyes bright and too fucking wide. “I trust you, hyung.”

And there it is again, that sharp twist of his gut. Jaebum pushes himself off of the doorway, allowing Mark into the apartment.

“I said Jaebum was fine.”

Mark shifts uncomfortably.

“It doesn’t seem right.”

“What’s right and what’s wrong is all subjective. I’m telling you I don’t give a damn.”

“Okay,” he says, voice subdued, and Jaebum pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Come on. Let’s go.”

“Where are we going?” Mark asks, looking alarmed.

But Jaebum doesn’t answer him. Not verbally, anyway. He grabs his keys and waits impatiently for Mark to get the memo and leave his apartment. He leads them down the stairs, through the lobby and out to the back to his motorcycle. The thing’s banged up and looks like shit, but it runs great.

“You have a motorcycle?” Mark murmurs behind him, voice filled with awe.

Jaebum sits down, waiting expectantly for Mark to get on behind him. He revs the engine twice, grinning when he hears Mark’s sharp intake of breath.

And then they’re speeding off into the night, and he feels Mark’s hands fisted into the back of his jacket. He allows it, figuring Jinyoung will rip him a new one if he turns his precious trainee into a human pancake.

The club is busy this time of night. There’s a line curving around the back, but Jaebum pulls the bike over to the side of the road and walks towards the emergency exit.

Mark shuffles alongside him, arms wrapped around himself, looking at the building like he thinks it’s about to eat him or some shit like that. Jaebum grins and holds the door open for him.

“After you.”

Mark enters gingerly, clearly in awe of the building. Jaebum takes him downstairs, where the dancers are. There’s a curvy woman twirling effortlessly around the shiny metal pole. She hangs herself upside down and shoots a wink to the man practically leaning over the stage to get a look at her.

Mark doesn’t shield his eyes from her, but he averts his gaze and stares determinedly at the wall. Even in the dark, Jaebum can tell he’s blushing.

“Why are we here?” Mark whispers harshly, and Jaebum claps him on the back.

“We’re having fun. Relax. Once you make it, you can’t do this shit anymore.”

He finds an empty booth near the back and has to practically drag Mark down to get him to sit. A waiter comes by and Jaebum orders a bottle of “whatever will get him shitfaced the quickest”.

Mark stares at the glass in front of him like it’s done something to personally offend him. Jaebum takes a heavy swig, groaning when the heat of whiskey slides down his throat and settles warmly in the pit of his stomach. He jerks his chin towards the stripper sauntering off the stage, her hips swaying invitingly as the patrons seated behind her whistle and scream.

“You wanna fuck her?”

“What?” Mark’s head snaps up, and Jaebum takes another sip of his drink.

“Can’t do that either, once you become an idol,” he says. He grins when Mark cocks his head to the side. “Trust me. I tried.”

Mark folds his hands in his lap, body rigid.

“Why are we here?” he asks again.

“For fuck’s sake, loosen up,” Jaebum groans, sliding down in his seat. He’s got a massive headache, now, and it worsens more that fucking kid looks at him as if he should be ashamed of what he’s doing. “You’re signing away your goddamn life. Don’t you see that?”

Mark’s mouth drops open in surprise.

“Yeah,” Jaebum says darkly, snickering. “It’s not all sunshine and rainbows. You’ve gotta work your ass off, and even then, there’s gonna be some asshole around to tell you it isn’t enough. Everyone’s gonna suck you dry, but you’re gonna have to keep giving and giving until you fucking break.”

“Is that what happened to you?”

Jaebum downs the rest of his drink.

“You tell me. Do I look fucked to you?”

“No,” Mark says, and it’s the most confident Jaebum’s ever heard the kid be.

 

 

 

 

iv.

Jaebum wakes up because it’s too fucking bright. For a second, he thinks he forgot to close the curtains, but then he realizes the source of the light is too concentrated to be from the sun. He cracks his eye open a sliver, groaning when he sees Jinyoung leaning over him, the flash on his phone on. He shuts it off once he realizes Jaebum is awake, standing up straight and tucking his phone away.

“Rise and shine, motherfucker,” Jinyoung says, far too loudly, and Jaebum grapples for his pillow so he can cover his head.

“What the hell are you doing here?!”

“You took Mark to a fucking strip club.”

“I was testing him out.”

“I’m sure you were,” Jinyoung spits out, clearly disgusted. “You can thank him for sending you home in a cab, by the way.”

“Okay.”

“You fucking stranded the kid, asshole,” Jinyoung hisses, kicking the couch.

Jaebum growls and sits up, pillow tumbling down onto the ground.

“So what?”

“So, he’s your responsibility!”

“We never agreed on anything!”

“Just because you’re miserable doesn’t mean you have to drag everyone else down with you,” Jinyoung snarls.

It’s the finishing blow in the end, simply because Jaebum can’t think of a coherent response. He snaps his mouth shut and sits back against the couch.

“What do you want me to do, Jinyoung?”

“Apologize. Fix this.” He crosses his arms and stares Jaebum down like he knows exactly how to manipulate him to get what he wants. “ _Now_.”

Jaebum rolls his eyes but complies.

It’s what leads him to the dorm Mark’s sharing with four other boys. Nobody says anything to him, not even when it’s clear they want to ask him all about his fall from the top. Everybody loves the Im Jaebum story. It’s become somewhat of a cautionary tale, used to lure promising young trainees away from the dark grasp of normal fucking human desires.

“Is Mark here?”

“Ah,” the kid in front of him says, all baby-faced. He’s wearing a snapback backwards, like that’ll suddenly make him tough. “Mark-hyung, there’s someone here to see you.”

There’s the sound of shuffling, and then Mark is stepping into view. His eyes widen when he catches sight of Jaebum, and he steps out and shuts the door behind him, leaving them both trapped on the tiny porch.

“Hyung?”

“Jinyoung said I owed you an apology,” Jaebum says gruffly. “I think he’s right.”

“It’s fine,” Mark says quickly. He looks at Jaebum anxiously. “Did you get home alright?”

“The fuck are you asking that for?” Jaebum snaps. “How the hell did _you_ get back?”

“I walked,” Mark mutters, shrugging. “I didn’t have enough money for a cab.”

“Yeah, because you blew it on _me_.”

Mark doesn’t response, doesn’t attempt to defend himself against Jaebum’s scathing verbal attack. Jaebum rakes his fingers through his hair, his blood boiling.

“Why me?” he asks through gritted teeth. “Why the hell did you choose _me_?”

“Because I could,” Mark says, simple and honest as anything, and Jaebum almost, almost punches him.

“You’re gonna ruin your goddamn life,” he says. “You’re never gonna get out of here.”

He points viciously at the dorm looming behind them. Mark tilts his chin up, staring at Jaebum with a kind of defiance that shouldn’t make him feel like his entire body is engulfed in flames.

“It had to be you, hyung,” Mark says, and Jaebum can pinpoint the exact moment he loses this fight.

 

 

 

 

 

v.

Mark’s hunched over, panting, hands on his knees, staring at Jaebum’s reflection in the mirror. Jaebum shakes his head, punching the radio off and making his way over to him.

“Get up.”

“I can’t,” Mark wheezes out.

Jaebum snarls and grabs his arm, pulling him to his feet. Mark looks startled for a moment, practically frozen before Jaebum.

“You have to,” he hisses. “You don’t have a choice.”

He lets go and returns to his designated spot in the corner of the practice room.

“Start again.”

“…No.”

It’s clear as day, and it shouldn’t rattle Jaebum’s bones as much as it does. His jaw drops before he can help himself, but he rushes to regain his composure.

“No?”

“No,” Mark repeats firmly. “I’m done.”

He’s fisting the hem of his shirt, chest heaving, sweating matting his bangs to his forehead. Jaebum clenches his jaw but doesn’t fight. Not now. Maybe later, when he has the energy to.

He orders them take-out, and they eat it with their backs against the cold mirror. Mark has his knees pulled to his chest, his container of noodles balanced precariously on them. Jaebum shoves a mouthful of rice into his mouth and forces himself to look away.

“I was nowhere, before this,” Mark says, voice soft. “That’s why I wanted to come to Korea. Maybe I’m not as talented as other people, but I wanted to try.”

“Where are you now?” Jaebum asks before he can stop himself. Mark shrugs.

“Here,” he says, and when his thigh presses against Jaebum’s, he loses it.

Mark’s noodles spill across the floor in a greasy mess, but Jaebum’s not thinking about it when he crashes his lips to Mark’s. He tastes like salt, but underneath that there’s something sweet. He’s young, so goddamn young, and Jaebum feels like a monster.

But then there are thin fingers tugging at his shirt, a soft little mouth moving eagerly against his own. Jaebum pulls away, gasping for breath, and when Mark opens his eyes, it hits him all at once.

“Fuck,” he growls, scrambling to his feet.

“Jaebum-hyung!”

Jaebum flees the practice room, heart racing a mile a minute. He’s a grown man. He shouldn’t be running away like a child. But Jaebum doesn’t really know what the fuck he _should_ be doing at the moment.

He doesn’t tell Jinyoung about it, not even when he presses and presses like the insistent bastard he is. Mark doesn’t bring it up. But he doesn’t open himself up to Jaebum again either. Jaebum tells himself it’s for the best.

Until Jinyoung calls him, frantic, on a cool Thursday evening.

“Mark’s gone.”

“What do you mean he’s gone?”

“I mean he’s fucking _gone,_ Jaebum. I went to the dorm. His stuff’s gone. Everything.”

The words come to him through a haze, like Jaebum is suspended in water, and the sound is attempting to reach him through the liquid. He doesn’t remember hanging up, or even grabbing his keys. But one moment he’s in his apartment, talking to Jinyoung, and the next he’s racing along the streets of Seoul, screaming Mark’s name.

The few people out look at him like he’s crazy, but Jaebum doesn’t care. He can only think of one thing, and it’s driving him out of his mind. Minutes pass, and eventually, hours.

Jaebum pulls over when he’s so exhausted he can’t think straight, when he’s covered in sweat and clenching his jaw so hard it hurts. He doesn’t know how he manages to get himself into the practice room, but he does.

Mark wouldn’t be here, he thinks, but when he nudges the door open, he’s sitting against the mirror. It’s so achingly familiar that Jaebum feels his mouth go dry.

“What the fuck?”

He’s seeing red, and Mark startles, head knocking back against the mirror.

“Hyung?”

“Are you out of your mind?” Jaebum seethes, stalking towards him. “You scared the shit out of everybody!”

Mark seems to shrink in on himself.

“I didn’t mean to,” he says softly. “I just—I needed a break.”

“From what?”

“Everything,” he says. And then, more thoughtfully, “you.”

“Me?”

Mark shakes his head, looking off to the side.

“I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“So you ran away.”

“Yeah,” he whispers, rubbing harshly at his face. It’s only then that Jaebum realizes the kid is _crying_. “I’m scared.”

Jaebum settles beside him, dropping himself heavily onto the ground.

“I was scared too,” he admits, shrugging when Mark looks at him, shocked. “But I knew what I wanted. And being scared wasn’t gonna get me any closer to my dream.”

“Then why’d you give it up?” Mark asks. “You were doing so well. The whole world loved you.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t love myself,” Jaebum says. It sucks to say it out loud, but he figures it’s something Mark should hear. “I grew up, and I realized this shit wasn’t for me.”

“Are you saying I should give up?”

“I’m saying you shouldn’t lose yourself,” he says.

“Okay,” Mark says quietly. He’s picking a loose thread on his sweatpants, and Jaebum takes a deep breath.

“I’m still here,” he says, the words taking an insurmountable amount of effort to get out, “even if you give up on yourself.”

He doesn’t expect the million-watt smile that breaks out onto Mark’s face, or the way he crashes their lips together.

“Thank you,” he breathes against Jaebum’s mouth, and Jaebum curls his fists into Mark’s shirt and kisses him again.

 

 

 

 

vi.

Jaebum pauses, bowl of chips in his hand, just as Jinyoung flips the channel.

“Hey, look,” Jinyoung says, an evil smile on his face. “It’s Mark.”

Jaebum swallows hard and sits on the couch beside him, wrestling the remote out of his hand and turning the volume up. Mark’s different, now. Still Mark, but more confident, less afraid. It makes Jaebum’s heart burn with pride, and he can’t stop the smile that comes onto his face, not even when Jinyoung jabs his fingers into his ribs and pretends to gag.

Later, long after Jinyoung is gone, Jaebum lays in bed and replays Mark’s performance in his head. It’s flawless, perfect, nothing he would’ve expected from the lanky kid that had stood in his kitchen all that time ago.

His phone vibrates on his nightstand, so Jaebum unlocks it and answers without bothering to check who it is. There’s only one person who would be calling him.

“You did well tonight.”

“Thank you, hyung,” Mark says, still managing to sound bashful, even now. “You watched?”

“Of course I did,” Jaebum says. “You’ve come a long way.”

“It’s because of you,” Mark says. “I couldn’t have done it alone.”

“Nah, you didn’t need me,” Jaebum says, shaking his head even though Mark can’t see him. “You were born for this.”

He hears Mark’s sharp intake of breath on the other end of the line. Silence hangs over them for a moment before Mark quietly clears his throat.

“I love you, Jaebum.”

“I know,” Jaebum says, and when Mark begins to whine, he smiles and says, “I love you too.”


End file.
